


Runaway

by naboru



Series: 28 Blast Offs [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Comedy, Crack, M/M, Plug and Play, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-12
Updated: 2011-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-21 07:57:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When escaping from Vortex, an exhausted Blast Off ends up in someone else’s quarters. -- smut of the plug’n’play variety, PWP, a little crack & comedy with an additional exhausted-topping-a-little-from-bottom Blast Off</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runaway

**Title:** Runaway  
 **Continuity:** G1 [part of ultharkitty’s [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1)]  
 **Warnings:** smut of the plug’n’play variety, PWP, a little crack  & comedy with an additional exhausted-topping-a-little-from-bottom Blast Off  
 **Characters:** Onslaught/Blast Off  
 **Prompt:** Exhausted  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Summary:** When escaping from Vortex, an exhausted Blast Off ends up in someone else’s quarters.  
 **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
 **Beta:** [ultharkitty](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty), thank you so much! :D

 **Note:** Written for the _[28 Blast Off meme](http://community.livejournal.com/moebiusschleife/3133.html)_.  
“Aurora Polaris” describes the Northern Lights and Southern Lights and is not a spelling mistake of “aurora borealis”. :)

 

**Runaway**

“…ff.”

Someone touched him and shook him by his shoulder.

“…Off!”

Programs booted up, and Blast Off awoke slowly from recharge.

“Blast Off!”

When he onlined his optics, the first thing he saw was dark blue and green plating.

 _Onslaught_ was what Blast Off was thinking, but only an incoherent muttered “mmnh…” left his vocaliser.

“Blast Off, wake up!” Onslaught didn’t sound happy.

“’m awake…” the shuttle eventually answered. Slaggin’ pit. He checked his chronometer and realised that he hadn’t even recharged for three joors. Great, and he’d thought he could finally get some peace, but it seemed this was impossible.

“You’re lying on my berth.”

Blast Off didn’t answer that, because yes, he was. He lay on his front, heaving a sigh through his side vents, and turned his head enough to face his commander.

“You gave me your code once. Remember?”

“Yes, I do remember. But I still want to know why you are lying on my berth.”

I was recharging, Blast Off thought sarcastically, but he was too exhausted to keep up his guard. Though, Onslaught wasn’t Vortex, this wasn’t the first time that the gestalt leader saw him like this, and he didn’t really care.

Instead of a cynical remark, Blast Off shut his optics down, and leant the forehead on the back of his hand. “Vortex.”

“What? Did he break into your quarters?”

The answer was a brief nod, and Blast Off held up his other hand, showing three fingers, wordlessly.

“Three times?” Onslaught sounded surprised. “Didn’t you lock your door?”

“I did. After the third time, I also blocked the door with my desk.”

“…and he still got in?”

Another nod.

“How?”

Blast Off’s shoulders twitched to a shrug. “Slagged if I know. I woke up when he touched me.”

“So, and then you thought you could just enter my quarters and use my berth?”

“You were on a mission. Why not?”

“How about asking me before you do?” Onslaught wasn’t amused, and Blast Off hoped he wouldn’t start yelling. He doubted that he could cope with something like that right now.

There was a longer pause in which Blast Off didn’t know what to answer and his train of thought got lost between fragmented impressions and memories of the recent events. He didn’t have control over it, and the first systems were about to shut down again when Onslaught’s voice dragged Blast Off out of the daze.

“When did you come back?”

This time, Blast Off’s hand showed four fingers.

“Four joors ago? And how long since you recharged before that?”

“Hmm…” Blast Off muttered, and he had to force himself to answer coherently. “150 joors. Roughly.”

“That’s a long time.”

Venting a condescending huff, Blast Off refused to respond to this obvious fact. He only mumbled. “Space was quite… _lively_ this time.” Though, he didn’t say what had actually happened.

Blast Off wasn’t in the mood for talking: Particularly not about the strong solar flare which had probably caused pretty aurora polaris at both poles, but was painful for him. The radiation still stung in his lines and cables; it made his limbs weak, and his self-repair had needed joors to take care of the damaged circuitry. He also didn’t want to talk about the human shuttle incident or the almost collision with an Indian satellite. Until then, Blast Off hadn’t even known that India _had_ satellites…

“So, you’re going to throw me out?” Blast Off asked, but he was pretty sure Onslaught wouldn’t.

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Hmpf, think faster, otherwise you’ll have to do that _literally_ ,” Blast Off muttered quietly. It was the truth, if Onslaught didn’t decide soon, Blast Off’s systems would betray him and he’d be back in recharge.

There never was a spoken answer; the only sound were steps, then rustling of the berth’s soft covering and metal sliding slowly over metal.

Onslaught sat astride Blast Off’s thighs. Blast Off tensed, his systems back online and alarmed due to the lack of control over his programs; uneasiness spread and he needed a moment to regain control.

There was touch. Two knowing hands with the experience of many of Earth’s years traced over all the right places on his back; they tickled the transformation seams between the heat shield and triggered a pleasurable prickling on the sensitive circuitry beneath.

Blast Off didn’t struggle.

He was too tired, and it wasn’t as though it didn’t feel good. Still, he couldn’t let it happen with no protest at all.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re tense.”

Blast Off huffed at Onslaught’s mocking voice. “You’re only taking advantage of my exhaustion.”

“Am I?”

A touch at a particularly sensitive part caused Blast Off to shudder; he suppressed a sigh, but couldn’t keep his energy field from flaring slightly. The faint current on his sensor net mingled with too many fragmented memories, and despite his HUD being offline, his processor created unreal pictures and multi-coloured mosaics. It made him feel sick for the first few astroseconds, but after that it was intoxicating, mesmerising.

Blast Off relaxed.

Onslaught moved, his weight shifted and his hot vents were notable on the exposed circuitry.

“Well” Onslaught carried on, and his voice made the coloured fragments in Blast Off’s head dance. “The only other option would be to throw you out and send you to your quarters…” The sound of a battle mask sliding aside. “…where Vortex would take advantage.” Onslaught leant closer, the warmth of his gusts of air increasing, their EM fields met where fingers stroked the rim of transformation seams. “But I’m too egoistical to share.”

Onslaught bit down into the shuttle’s neck cables and revved his engine.

Oh Sigma, it was good. Blast Off shivered, intakes hitching. Initiating a quick transformation sequence, the plates of the heat shield slid further aside and revealed more of the brass-coloured circuits.

“Hmpf, I wouldn’t let him touch me like that.” Blast Off grinned faintly, then bit his lower lip and sighed.

Hands slid down the full length of his sides, stroking the edge of his interface panel as lips brushed over his audio sensor, and Onslaught whispered. “I hope so.”

Blast Off didn’t respond, but flared his field, the other’s gasp sending an exciting rush through his sensor net.

“Hmmm…” Another murmur, and a hand paid again attention to the seams on his back while the other continued stroking his side, teasing the rim of his panel. “I like you like that.”

Blast Off quivered, and he couldn’t say if it was because of the words, or Onslaught’s energy field rushing over him.

When Onslaught spoke again there was static in his voice. “You’re so hot when you’re vulnerable.”

“I can still shoot you.”

“As if you would.”

Blast Off huffed. Of course he wouldn’t. Not now when exhaustion was stimulating, and sleepy sensor nodes lit up and went off in pleasurable waves; when current created whirling images that resembled space.

It was better than high grade, and he enjoyed it, but he also would never admit that to anyone.

Their energy fields touched, crackling, grinding against each other. Energy built up which was sent back into their frames and circulated there; it ran over cables and heated the energon in their lines.

Onslaught’s cooling fans kicked in, and Blast Off’s tried to work faster. Though, as he was lying on them, only the vents on his sides began cycling air more quickly.

This was the moment when he didn’t want to wait any longer. With a quick command, Blast Off’s interface panel opened and the covering slid aside. The components revealed pulsated under Onslaught’s touch; Blast Off growled, but didn’t beg. Even without looking, the shuttle knew Onslaught was smirking.

When the connector clicked in place, energy sparked from Blast Off’s own, which Onslaught stroked lightly, mockingly. A first surge of foreign energy spread over Blast Off’s sensors while there came a hot, wet pleasure from Onslaught’s glossa on his plug.

His fingers curling, Blast Off failed when he tried to bite back a moan. A second rush followed the first one quickly, and he was sure he wouldn’t last long if Onslaught kept this up.

“Slagger” he spat, panting. “Stop teasing.”

A laugh, but finally his connector slid home, and the effect was immediate. Their gestalt program synchronised their engines, their energy fields, and elicited surges through the interface. Despite their closed bond, it still gave enough insight into sensations of exhaustion, need, dizziness and arousal linked to a single entity where pleasure was the most intense sense.

The images in Blast Off’s inner optic went haywire, and he lost orientation. Blissful energy consumed every coherent thought for the first few mutual pulses, before the combiner coding slowly ebbed away, reduced again to an underlying subroutine.

Only the pleasure was still a reminder, ringing to the depth of his laser core, it was more powerful than with other mechs.

One of Blast Off’s hands found its way to his interface panel, searching for Onslaught’s cable and taking hold of it tightly. He earned himself a single groan, and a surprised hitch.

Both mech’s panted. They weren’t loud, and the only moans were muffled sighs when the energy exchange increased.

“Lean down” Blast Off said in a staticky voice and, through the connection, he knew that Onslaught knew what he was aiming for.

The other’s chest met his back, engine revving, generating vibrations and sending them straight into Blast Off’s plating. Where there weren’t tiles protecting his circuits, the pleasure almost bordered on pain, but it wasn’t enough.

“Again” Blast Off urged, arching up, and Onslaught did as he was told as he bit the neck again.

“Hmpf.” Blast Off pressed his lips together, waiting for the current surge to subside, and panted anew. “Again! _Harder_!”

Onslaught’s engine rumbled powerfully, then settled to constant vibrations.

Blast Off revved his in return, which made the feedback loop a glorious thrill. He heard Onslaught mumbling something against his throat that he couldn’t understand; it didn’t matter.

Fingers dug into the berth and his forehead pressed harder onto the soft covering; his hand shook as he continued kneading Onslaught’s cable.

The combiner programming amplified everything, and pleasure rose quickly. Blast Off couldn’t say how long he would last as their engines throbbed in unison, pushing sensor nodes, and their energy fields mingled to one.

Onslaught gasped near his audio sensor, and the additional noises triggered more hallucinations, bright patterns as though the delight became visible.

And then a strong hand clutched at his arm-shield, before fingers intertwined with his and the added touch stimulated sensors along his lower arm. Circuits under the heat-shield trembled from conducted vibrations, and the tremor spread over his whole frame.

Shivering, panting, Blast Off tensed when the current reached its peak and let loose in a single instant. Tiredness made it impossible to hold it off, and he could only cling to the intense sensations of overload as energy surged back and forth.

Distantly, Blast Off’s systems registered Onslaught’s overload, and his sensor net lit up a final time, leaving him quivering in blissful agony.

Post overload haze and the mental fatigue of much too little recharge made Blast Off indifferent to Onslaught still lying on him. The tingling on sore circuits was tranquillising, and the last thing Blast Off did was to activate his cooling system.

Coolant circulated, and warmth left the plating instantly, but Blast Off wasn’t aware of this tickling contrast as long-needed recharge claimed his consciousness.


End file.
